Saudia
by iBlack
Summary: Saudia is in the choir of the rebuilt Opera Populair, but when strange catastrophies begin to surround her, her confidence of remaining in the opera starts to fade. Then a moment turns that all around...


The day the article appeared in the newspaper, there was celebration and silence. No one was for sure gleeful, maybe the new owners and employers, but none of the citizens were apparently delighted. It was a slight sudden decision, and further explianation could say that the audience was left in shock from the small article on the front page, titled: Opera Populair Rebuilt.

The flurried thoughts of falling chandeliers and hanged men crossed peoples minds and as the grand opening masquerade was held people did not dare to go. The shameful thought of being back in the place of sorrow killed the hearts of all, as did the thought of seeing Red Death once again in person were flown, irritated by the thought of dying on the spotlight. But then again, there were some, but few, who dared to go and so did; and it was a splendid night. The main hall had been decorated to the ceiling with ribbons of velvet and silk, the new statues grand and as beautifully shining as ever. There was no chandelier in sight.

The new managers, Monsieur Marlion and Monsieur Grendlin were very proud of their work on the building and greatly expressed that; they took care to talk to every guest individually about the progression that would be made and the cautiousness that nothing would ever come crashing down to their death. They spoke lies within their truth, but even the cleverist of the guests, a young duke, believed the strong words.

Three days after the ball word had spread about their promise and more people were influenced to believe by their pretendation of the truth. When auditions were held, over triple the people who arrived for the ball came to audition. It was, of course, a new brand of dancers and singers, as the time between when the Opera Populair was demolished and when it revived was what seemed like an agonizingly long period of advancements. But most were pleasantly good and had the new energy that the managers were looking for. They easily found the leads, a woman of great stature and a sharp high operetta voice that called herself 'le noir,' and a deep belowing man although he was at a weight of only one hundred pounds of bone and no heavy. The chorus was adding up greatly, as after Christine's beautiful performance more and more youngs started to yearn to sing like her. They took lessons that turned out to be one of the highest paying jobs in Paris over the time. As for the dancers, they had also been evoked to dance by the wonderful Christine's side and dancing teachers were also among the most high. It seemed like a lovely start to a new business, as the managers took the stage for the first day of rehersal after the cast had been set.

"Hello everyone. We're pleasantly glad all of you have made it into the renewed Opera Populair, and hope you enjoy your new experience," Monsieur Marlion announced as the last of the people trickled in.

"Now as you know of the history of this opera," whispers acted up about the crowd, "we ensure you that the catacombs are welly guarded and all sections of safety are ensured. Now, practice, practice, practice! Our play of Le Printemps must go on!"

As the rehersal hurried on its way through the afternoon the managers sat in the many new reholstered chairs in the audience and observed the work of their new cast. From what the many singers and dancers could see, they were very pleased and so that made the practice carry on with extreme smoothness.

The one thing that could of caught an edge but still pleased the managers was the shrillness of 'le noir.' She was, truly, a desendant of Carlotta and in the very back of their mind this displeased the managers greatly. The Opera Ghost had disliked Carlotta to the extreme of killing, and having a desendant enforced both the Opera Ghost himself, and the haters of Carlotta in the outside world. But as they slowly came to think the ghost was dead that small nag in the back of their mind quietly retreated and they were left with only the purest thoughts of their reigning sorprano.

Sights also caught wind of the more talented dancer and singer of the group, a young chorus girl, Saudia, from the farther side of the city. She had been accepted into the opera for her astoundingly soft voice and the genuine want of being a part of the opera, and so as they expected, the managers were greatly acknowledged for their brilliant decision.

But Saudia was more than a puppet full of talent. She was very protective of her voice and when approached by the managers with offerings of independent parts in Le Printemps she denied immediently. The courage she held in her was so small of an ammount that no one could break through to it and the managers held slight pity for her. They knew she could go far with that voice, and insited firmly for her to have a part, ignoring her repetative responces.

She was not accustomed to it at all. At first rehersal of her part, she couldn't even come out of the wings. In the second, she stepped out, opened her mouth and ran off. No progression was made, and the managers quickly decided upon a understudy, although they did not announce that there would be one. Saudia felt an odd tinge of guilt upon herself because she did not have the strength to step up. And after one rehersal where she escaped back into a small inlet in the walls she had found, she thought to herself that this madness couldn't continue.

"Monsieurs, please, I beg of you to remove me from my solo. It is…not one fit for me, and I reject having to sing alone in front of an audience."

The managers looked at each other and exchanged glances of worry and confusion. They had thought she had progressed since the first rehersal. Marlion spoke first, an idea at once in his mind.

"My dear, if you had the mind to come in here and ask us this then you have the strength to go sing!"

"I find the two situations very different," She murmured softly.

Grendlin then spoke, eyes glinting. "Mademoiselle, will you please sing it?"

"Sing…my solo?"

Grendlin nodded enouragingly. "Yes, please. It is but us two! Nobody else can here, these walls are solid!" He laughed, prompty trying to lighten the mood.

"I…"

"It is alright. Just sing," Marlion said, smiling with a slight turn of pity.

Saudia hesitated greatly, but knew they wouldn't give to her nagging. She moved her lips apart very slowly, and the notes that slipped out were soft and slow, but beautiful none the less.

"The sun up in the moonlit sky

doth weep and cry with sorrow.

But I do see a man aware of the sadness

of the 'morrow.

He sits upon a grave of stone,

yet wanders far and near.

I do hope he can save us all

from this unwanted fear."

Her cheeks were flushed pure rosy red when she finished.

"Super! Magnifico!" Both managers were clapping encouragingly, and Saudia looked up in surprise.

"Mademoiselle, this part was made for you. Please, don't think any more of ending this magnificent blessing. You must sing this. You must!" Grendlin clasped her on the back. "Please say you'll try once for us on a rehersal."

"Try…is what I can do." She said, smiling herself.

The next rehersal was antisipated by the managers. Her were hoping their little scene had given her more confidence and that maybe she would be able enough to project at least a note.

Scenes passed slowly, as, unlike the scenes, time was quickly passing and needed rehersals were being scedueled at last minute and instructors working hard enough for persperation. They seemed to be distracted by a rumor that had flown from corridor to corridor of the opera house, a rumor the mangers did not like one bit. It described the sightings of a man; a man cast in black and sneaking in the shadows, lurking around unvisited halls. The ones who saw him the most were closer to the catacombs as they liked, and described him like a cat; slinking around in corners and quietly disapearing. A smarter lady of the girl's choir exclaimed it must have been an oil burner, searching for new candles that were installed to be lit, as she had heard that they had been put up earlier. The thought was shortly accepted, but the small rumor had layed a stopping sign in the confidence of every member.

Saudia had heard but none of these silly rumors. She had not ever bothered herself with gossip and tales of the wandering eyes, for to her she knew, intelligently, they were all lies. And with not knowing this strange 'oil burner,' she had gathered the confidence greatly needed to step upon the stage and walk the length she needed, then pause and open her mouth. But she only got few words out before her eyes widened in terror and she shot off the stage and was followed by a young girl from the choir.

"Grendlin, I do think that was not stage fright." Marlion murmured softly.

"No, not indeed. She seemed purely scared out of her wits!"

"Monsieur…good Lord, Pastimus, do you find need to stop the orchestra?" Marlion called down to the pit, where the instructor had layed down his stick and was patting the persperation from his forehead.

"Dear managers, I can not continue with what I have just seen…"

"Saudia is well sick!" The young girl hurried back, gasping for breath from her long run following the scared soloist. "She was plain sick…couldn't even make it to her room! Hid in an inlet in the wall, did she!"

The managers looked at each other cautiously.

"Either she is just terribly afraid to sing…" Grendlin began.

"…or there was something that scared her. Pastimus! Lord, what did you see!" Marlin ran to the edge of the pit and bent over it, staring in to the horrified eyes of the instructor.

"Two…pure yellow eyes. Like a cats. But not…more of a demons than a cats…They blinked…and then there was teeth…" Marlion stopped him there as the cast in front of him scattered in a hurry.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please…this must have been a hoax by…the oil burner! He must have distasted the rumors so much he wanted to frighten us all. Ladies. Gentlemen. Please, back to rehersal…"

Cautiously, rehersal drew on with fear gleaming in everyone's movement. The two managers retreated to their seats and eagerly drew the situation out.

"We have to find out who that was, Grendlin! If we don't assure our cast then the fear may just overcome them!"

Grendlin sighed and dropped his head into his palm. "I have a numb feeling that was no oil burner."

"I feel it too. Someone has snuck into out opera house without permission! They will be repremanded by the police!"

"Yes! The police indeed!"

And so the phone was used to call the local police and they came obviously hesitant to what they had to go through twenty years ago. Questioning the managers was a quite and recoiled discussion, and it dragged on for a while on the simple topic of 'if there is an intruder or not.' After, the police stopped in at Saudia's dressing room, where she was deathly scared and would not utter a word. A doctor was ordered to come in, but the illness was just fear and was told she would be over it. There was no evidence of forced entry, although the opera house is large enough that one person could die and never be found. The police left, confused, flustered, and trying to clear their heads of the mishap.

Meanwhile the managers were looking for a genuine excuse for stopping the performance if needed to. 'Le Noir,' down with a cold? Opressan, broke a toe and not able to walk? But as the excuses drew on they slowly came to realize that the show must go on, fear evident, or not.


End file.
